


What's In A Name?

by rancheel



Category: British Actor RPF, The Night Manager (TV)
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee Shops, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rancheel/pseuds/rancheel
Summary: Maria Carter figures her friend, Angela Burr, somehow made her a pawn in a super top secret mission. That doesn't mean she didn't remember who Jack Linden and Andrew Birch were when she finished playing her part.When she sees the man for the third time in her coffee shop, she's determined to figure out what his real name is this time around.
Relationships: Angela Burr & Jonathan Pine, Jonathan Pine & Original Female Character(s), Jonathan Pine/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston & Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 17





	1. Black, No Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I watched The Night Manager finally.. this is what happened. 
> 
> Excuse this being short. It's currently 1:40 AM and I have work at 10 AM. Hopefully the next chapter idea I get will be longer than this. Also! The summary is a work in progress and any mistakes are my own. Like I said, 1:40 AM and all that.

When I first met him, he was Jack. 

Jack Linden. 

Rugged, seemingly short tempered, and yet oddly polite with a slight twinge of heat under the kind tone he seemed to hold. 

It made Devon less dreary and more interesting. Especially with the little show he put on at the pub. That made the papers the next day and my boyfriend at the time wouldn’t _stop_ talking my ear off about the man.

The second time, he was Andrew Birch, stopping in at an establishment I had moved to for the convince of Angela who had exclaimed that I needed to get out and explore. 

She recommended Cairo. 

It didn’t take long to connect the dots that maybe I hadn’t gotten this job with any luck of my own. I discovered most of the staff I was working with that night had ear pieces in. Angela sitting down at a table in the very hotel restaurant I started working in when he strutted in, all high and mighty. 

_And_ clean shaven. 

I wish I could say it made my stomach churn with disgust.

The final time I had met the man, about a year or two after Cairo, was in a coffee shop I co-owned with a friend in a more quieter nook of London.

He seemed much happier. Much more... soft around the edges, I’d say. 

A lot less bruising and scarring on him as well.

However, he was an irritating sight to see when I learned he was a morning person.

Cheerily ordering coffee—one black, no sugar. The other a caramel macchiato—Angela seated at a window booth. She had the stupid smug smile she had when she was plotting something, and I didn’t like it one bit.

Frankly, I hated both of them in that moment.

“It’s nearly a quarter to nine o’clock in the morning and I find Angela with _you_ ,” I started, sliding the black coffee to the man as he stood, waiting on the other drink that was being partially prepared by machine. “Which name do you go by these days?”

He was trained well, I assumed. Barely flinched when I asked the question. There were two options in that moment I knew: tell me his current name, or be clever and say something smug.

“You tell me.”

I opened my mouth to snark something back in the sudden heat of the moment, but had to abandon the idea to finishing the caramel macchiato after hearing the soft beep of the espresso machine.

He seemed pleased with his response by the way his lips curled into a devious looking smile around the rim of his cup just before I turned around.

_Bastard_.

“How do you know Angela?” He countered easily. I annoyingly lipped his question back to myself as I finished making the coffee.

“You tell me, Linden.”

Once more, nothing came back from his side of the counter top. Damn him, whatever training he’s had, and his stupid smug smile. Finishing the drink with a caramel drizzle, I topped it with the plastic lid before turning around with a quite sickening smile.

Jack, Andrew— _whoever_ he was—just returned the smile with a tight nod before picking up the cup and strutting over to the booth where Angela had sat.

Almost as if a switch had flipped, more customers came filling in for the day along with some of my fellow co-workers. My eyes never left the booth they sat at when I was making drinks and taking orders.

They got along well. Like friends, really. I couldn’t place why it made my heart ache in the moment.

Or perhaps it was my hand aching from the burn I gave myself from handling the coffee pot too soon.

Angela and He Who Doesn’t Like To Be Named stayed until it was half past noon. Angela being the first to leave, her phone pressed tightly to her ear as she carefully pushed out the doors.

He was soon to follow, throwing away the empty cups from their third round of coffee in the nearest trash can before giving me a knowing look.

It was followed by the same nod he’d given me when he left to sit with Angela.

I simply rose an unamused brow back in response, which caused him to laugh as he ducked out into the cool London afternoon.

After he’d left, I decided to make an executive decision to start asking for names on the orders of the drinks made so I could get the one question that was left on my mind answered the next time he came into this shop.

What was his name?


	2. Chai Tea Latte

It was two days since I last saw him. 

Mostly due to the fact that I had been working in the manager’s office, dealing with bills, checking deposits, and battling with an old printer that was in dire need of fixing. Or replacement. I wasn’t picky anymore. 

Erica, my friend and co- _everything_ , had decided to take a small vacation with her boyfriend, which left me to my devices as both coffee maker _and_ general manager.

It was a mess at first having to adjust, but on the third day, it didn’t seem so bad. 

I opened as normal, did the routine with the machines that needed cleaning, placed the chairs that sat atop the tables onto the ground again, triple checked that fresh coffee was being made before popping into the office to do some quick filing along with responding to emails when I heard the bell chime. 

“Hi, welcome to King’s Row Café, what can I get you started with?” I said in my usual customer service voice as I focused on keeping the door to the office propped open with my foot while finally clicking the send button to an email.

“What would the barista recommend?”

As I was just starting to pull away from the desk I froze, replaying the voice in my head. 

_Him_.

“The barista personally recommends the Chai Tea Latte, but she’s biased,” I said, clearing my throat so I could start speaking normally. I stood straight and let the office door behind me fall shut before turning around to look at the man. I oddly found it hard to ignore how sharp his jaw looked for a moment. “Do you always wake up at the crack of dawn and come here for coffee, Mr. Birch?”

He seemed to chuckle, but only enough to provide no answer on if I was correct with my guess this time around. 

Quite rude, if I say so myself. 

“I had some free time and decided to pop back in.”

“Of course you did,” I said, making my way from the office door to the register I had open for myself. “Was that a yes on the recommendation, or?”

“The what?”

“The coffee recommendation? Or did your memory just get wiped like James Bond?”

“Pretty sure his memory _wasn’t_ wiped.”

“Pretty sure it was. Chai or no Chai?” I shot right back, smiling sweetly as I leaned on the counter across from the man, trying not to take in his outfit. 

“That is the question,” he said under his breath as he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets to look up at the television screens that displayed menus just above my head. 

I held back the snort from the subtle Hamlet reference as I pushed off the counter. 

“Well, while you make a decision, I’ll be getting an apron on.”

He seemed to just hum in response while I was all too happy to turn away and snag my apron from the small hook in the kitchen area. 

After checking that my name tag was placed correctly on the apron instead of my shirt, I made my way back to the counter. 

And he was _still_ staring at the menus. 

“Y’know, it’s not a test or anything. If you pick the wrong coffee you’ll still get a good grade,” I teased, crossing my arms over my chest. 

I made him laugh once again before he let out a sigh.

“The Chai, please.”

“Perfect,” I said, merrily punching it into the register, “almost had me worried you could only wheeze in response for a minute.”

In a breeze, the money for the coffee was in my hands and put into the till before I grabbed a corresponding cup along with a sharpie from my apron pocket.

“Can I get a name please?”

“A name?”

“Yes, a name. The thing your parents gave you?” I asked, brows raising in mock confusion. “Assuming your parents gave you one.”

“J.”

“Jay? Never really took you for a _Jay._ ”

“The letter,” he started, hands back in his pockets, “not the name.”

I clicked my tongue and held the uncapped sharpie inches from the cup.

“That’s a shame, sweetheart. I need a name. Not a letter.”

“You didn’t ask for a name three days ago.”

“That was three days before we changed how we do things here.”

I held back my smirk at his defensive he seemed to get. He _had_ to like this game of sparring. He seems like the type to get off on it. 

We stared each other down for what felt like hours. I must admit that the way he was gazing at me did seem a tiny bit threatening. But overall, the gaze just seemed like he was getting ready to scold me like my mother would. Finally, I just gave up. 

“Fine then. Today you’ll be Jay.”

I scribbled the name on the cup before quickly capping the marker and setting to work.

“What made you want to work at a coffee shop?” He asked suddenly as his lithe form started to shrink as he leaned down to rest his elbows against the counter. 

I shrugged as I reached for the milk I had put out before speaking, “seemed like my cup.”

“That was terrible,” Jay said, speaking through his snickering. I even smiled at that one. 

“Well, the manager would agree,” I replied, letting out a small huff of resignation as the milk started to heat in the small kettle it was in. 

“Is it just you every morning?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

“I’m curious by nature.”

I hesitated before letting a quiet sigh loose.

“General manager and I usually take turns opening and closing, but she’s out of town. So yes, just me every morning.”

He seemed pleased with his answer before the silence was filled with the soothing sounds of making the rest of his order.

“Can I ask you questions now or is that not allowed?” I asked, carefully sliding the warm drink into his awaiting hand as I turned back to the register. Jay seemed to take a moment to think about it before shrugging as he stood up as straight as a board again.

“It couldn’t hurt.”

“Who are you to Angela Burr?”

“A...” The hesitance from his tone alone was astounding. “Friend.”

“A _friend_ ,” I repeated almost just as slow as he did, “care to elaborate there, Jay?”

He seemed to take the easy way out and just sip on the latte I’d given him. And he didn’t even flinch when he did it.

“Ookay,” I dragged out for a moment, placing my hands in two of my empty apron pockets, rocking back onto my heels for a moment to think of another question.

Just as I was about to speak he beat me to it.

“Who are _you_ to Angela Burr?”

“A friend from college she couldn’t end up getting rid of.” I crossed my arms over my chest again, finally letting my eyes roam freely to take in his appearance.

A nice enough gray colored button up peeked out of his zip up hoodie. I could notice that he seemed to be wearing jeans of some sort. It looked like some kind of business casual look to me.

I’m not too sure if that was on purpose or not. He seemed as if he was going to work in an office.

He _definitely_ wasn’t suited for that kind of job. He couldn’t be if he had two different names in two different places I saw him.

“Maria.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes shooting straight back up to his face from his shirt buttons, only to find his extremely bright blue eyes looking right at my name tag. 

I would be lying if I claimed that I didn’t like how my name sounded in his tone.

“Oh, nothing! I was just..” His free hand gestured almost awkwardly at my apron. “Reading your name tag. Didn’t get a chance to see it the other day. But she talks about you a lot.”

My eyes seemed to squint as he moved to take another sip from his cup.

“Good to know, Jay.”

“Indeed it is, Maria.”

“I assume I’ll see you in about three days time for _another_ request of a Chai Tea Latte?”

 _Why would you say it like **that**? _My mind questioned. I took a moment to scold myself mentally while he just nodded with a smile before his free hand went into his pocket.

“Maybe.”

And just like that, he left. Having what seemed like no care in the world, he exited. He was just as quiet as he was when he came in.

I glanced over at the clock only to see it’s been an hour since opening. I sighed, reaching the utensils I used for his drink before moving over to the closest sink to wash them.

The aggressive clanking was all that filled the coffee bar as I thoroughly rinsed and cleaned everything I used, since I had the time.

One thing that stayed on my mind during our interaction was the hesitation about his connection with Angela. It felt like it was to be a moment he forgot he was trying to dodge answering any of my questions _truthfully_.

He had to be _more_ than a friend, but nowhere near lover status, since Angela was happily married with her husband and her adorable little daughter.

“ _A friend_ ,” I scoffed under my breath, finally settling in with my assumptions for the day while shaking my head dramatically, “I think you’re more than some kind of _friend_ , Jay.”


	3. White Chocolate Mocha

“Chocolate Hazelnut Latte for Judith!” I shouted into the busy sitting area, my fellow co-workers bustling behind me.

The holiday spirit was starting to spread around town after the second day of December. I was excited about it until I came in an hour earlier than I usually do to see a long, long line of customers in their winter clothes waiting on me to open up.

That most definitely set up how the day was going to go.

I called in everyone who was scheduled early, promising they’d be paid a little extra this time around for the inconvenience before queuing up Christmas music on my phone and heading out into the lobby to start taking orders.

It almost made me forget about Jay completely.

It’s been about a week or two since he was last here when I was opening, and I felt thankful for that.

Our bantering would have to be put on hold, considering the amount of people in this cafe.

I smiled at the customer, Judith, who happily took her coffee and placed some money in the tip jar without hesitation before I moved back to my register once again.

“I can take the next person in line!”

“Hello again.”

My eyes were quick to come from the register keys to look up and see the one and only: Jay.

“Welcome back at the worst time possible. What can I get you today?”

He seemed taken aback about something after I talked. I was too busy trying to listen for his voice and drown out the chatter of the lobby.

“Sometime today, sunshine. I’ve got a line out the door,” I quipped, letting my hip jut out slightly, letting my voice slip into a more casual tone that I usually hold with him.

“Right, sorry. Uh, White Chocolate Mocha, please.”

I was quick to punch it in before quickly reading off the amount of money that was owed while I grabbed a cup along with one of the many sharpies on the counter.

“What’s the name today?”

“Jacob,” he said quick, without any hesitation. I didn’t read too much into it, scribbling the name on the cup after writing the corresponding abbreviation for the holiday exclusive drink on the opposite side before placing everything down to take the exact amount of money he was giving me for the drink.

“Alright, I should have your drink out here in a bit, just wait around at the other end of the counter for me,” I said quickly. Jay, who was now dubbed Jacob, nodded and was quick to move along the line of the countertop while I got started on his drink as someone else started to take orders.

“Who’s he?” My co-worker, Jamie asked.

“Who’s who?” I questioned in return, starting on the coffee while I dug around for the white chocolate flavoring. Jamie scoffed as she finished off a drink with caramel.

“Tall, blond, and handsome? You didn’t treat him like a usual customer.”

“He’s none of your concern,” I huffed just as Jamie let the topic go to give a customer their drink before heading back to the register.

Of course he’d caught the eyes of your co-workers. The bastard had a lot of charm and seemed like he just oozes sexiness daily.

It had gotten me at first, but now I’m well over it.

Almost.

“White Chocolate Mocha for Jacob!” I called out just as I turned around, trying not to seem phased as I saw him already standing at the counter I instructed him to be at. 

I gave him a kind smile before handing the warm cup to him.

“Thank you, Maria.” He had smiled back. Just as kind, almost genuine, I thought.

“You’re welcome, Jacob,” I replied, giving a small nod before turning back around to continue taking orders for the line that’s rapidly decreased due to everyone having all hands on deck. “Feel free to try and sit around if you’d like. Maybe tell me your real name or whatever.”

“Get to know me a little better and maybe you will!”

“Is that a _challenge_?” I teased, a playful smirk settled on my face just as Jacob’s cup was raised in my general direction before he turned and started to head out.

“And you said he was none of my concern,” Jamie said suddenly, nudging me with her elbow while she moved back to the coffee bar to make a drink. “Did you _see_ the way he was flirting, Maria?”

I pulled a face which caused her to laugh.

"Flirting? What the hell do you mean flirting?"

"Don't worry about it, I'll explain it to you when you're older," Jamie teased, sending me a smile to match her devious behavior over her shoulder.

I just rolled my eyes and shouted goodbye to some other customers.

"Shouldn't tease the person that tells you when to go on breaks, you know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought I'd ask this, but if you could comment some coffee ideas that'd be great! Hope you enjoyed this little mini chapter.


	4. English Breakfast Tea

“Maria!” Erica exclaimed happily behind the counter, cleaning a countertop as I walked in while pulling out my wallet from the confines of my crossbody bag.

I casually leaned against the part of the counter you order from by the time Erica met me at the opposite side of the counter.

“Good morning to you too. How was vacation with your boytoy?” I teased, letting out a gasp as she threw the wrapper of a straw at me. “Hey! Rude! I can fire you, y’know!”

“You _wish_ ,” Erica sassed back before finally standing at the register. “What can I get you today?”

“I’ll take a—”

“Oh! Before I forget,” she started suddenly, looking around frantically near the register before holding up a tenner. “You can’t get anything more than—”

“What the hell do you mean by that? You’re not paying for my drink, Erica.”

“Damn straight I’m not, but the man before you _is_ ,” Eria replied before leaning forwards, “but between you and me, he’s quite good looking.”

I rose a brow and started to look around in the lobby. “Who was before me?”

“The guy in the window booth over on the other side.”

I turned to the otherside of the lobby, scanning over the booths before spotting him.

Jacob. Jay. Whatever the hell he was called at this point.

“Oh.”

“Oh? All you can say is _oh_ when someone _that_ attractive offers to pay for your drink, _specifically!?_ ”

I was quick to turn back to look at Erica. “Did he tell you to use that for me? Like, verbatim.”

“Yes.”

“He told you, Erica, general manager two, that when Maria comes in—”

“To use this for your purchase,” Erica finished, waving the pound note around. “ _Yes._ I swear you’re usually smarter than this, Maria.”

“What was his name?” I asked suddenly. Erica looked taken aback by the sudden question. I probably looked like a maniac.

“Are you saying you _don’t_ know who that guy is?”

“No, no, I know who he is. It’s just that—” I stopped speaking to let out a loud huff. “—It’s a _long_ story that I’m not getting into right now with you, Erica. What was his name?”

“I don’t know.”

I blinked at her, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You don’t know.”

“No.”

“Did you not ask a name for the order?”

“I didn’t even know we started _doing_ that, Maria.”

“I texted you and told you that I was going to start that, Erica!”

The two of us sighed. I shook my head and shoved my wallet back in my bag, pushing up my jacket sleeves. “You know what? Forget it. Get me my usual and whatever he ordered, please.”

“Alright,” Erica mumbled, finally surrendering the topic as she punched in the order on the register. “You want the change or anything?”

“Nah, put it in the tip jar.”

Erica nodded as I started the short trek to the side of the counter where you pick up the drinks, slipping my hand into my bag once more to grab my phone.

How did the bastard know I would come in today? And why the hell would he pay for my coffee?

Maybe it has something to do with him saying that I need to get to know him better.

But still, what the fuck.

I tried to shake it off as I sent out a few replies to texts I’ve gotten and checked my emails before thanking Erica for the drinks, quickly pocketing my phone in my back pocket before grabbing my Chai Tea and the other warm cup.

Once the drinks were in my hands I carefully navigated around other customers and tables to get to the booth he was at.

“Nice to know you took my offer.” He was sitting in the booth with a smug face. I wanted to slap it off of him _so_ bad.

“How did you know I’d come here.”

“I took a guess.”

“Sure you did,” I grumbled, sliding across from him easily before gently pushing the other cup to the middle of the table. “Another round?”

He perked up almost instantly and eyed the other cup in my hand.

“Erica made it. Not me. You’re not poisoned and there’s no name on it.”

He still seemed skeptical as he took it.

“Pleasantly surprised to find out that the name orders were used _exclusively_ when I came in,” he said. He was trying to make conversation. We both knew it.

But _why_ was he.

“They aren’t.” I took a tentative sip from my cup. “I did change that. Erica just didn’t get the memo. She’s back from vacation.”

“Oh,” he started with a noise of conformation. Everything must have clicked. “ _She’s_ the general manager?”

I nodded before pulling my jacket sleeves back down, starting to scoot closer to the window at the opposite end of the booth. “Yeah. The second one.”

“And you’re the first?”

I let out a fake gasp and started to gently clap. “Wow! You’re so smart for your age!”

He seemed no where near amused as he just held his new cup in his hands, his facial expression seeming to have gone cold.

I’m really irritating today, then.

The silence between us was heavy. We each took turns sipping our own drinks respectively, occasionally exchanging glances. At one point I moved to it directly across from him, getting away from the window due to the chill that even my jacket couldn't keep out.

It was awkward, I realized. That’s what it was.

“So, what did you get?” I questioned. He was in the middle of swallowing his last sip. After smacking his lips and clearing his throat he spoke up.

“English Breakfast tea.”

“Why English Breakfast?”

“Because this little café I go to doesn’t carry Earl Grey.”

I let out an understanding nod and made a note mentally about the tea. Totally not to please him or anything. We needed more things on the menu, was all.

“Which café? There’s a few.”

“Well,” He started easily, leaning back in the booth to get comfortable it seemed, “the one with this woman. She’s _obsessed_ with finding out my name.”

“Wow. Sounds familiar,” I quipped, letting my short nails start to tap on the side of my cup. “Does she know it yet? I think it’s quite _rude_ to lie to a lady.”

The laugh he let out was a lovely sound, weirdly enough. I tried to ignore the charm that he clearly tries _so hard_ to ooze and keep focused on the conversation.

“She doesn’t, no.” He crosses his arms and places them on the table top to lean his weight on them. “Why should I tell her?”

“Maybe because she’s trying the hard way to find out rather than taking the easy way.”

His eyebrows scrunched together. “The easy way?”

“Well, doesn’t this woman have... connections?” I asked innocently, my brows shooting up as if I was asking a question. 

He settled on being confused for a moment longer before nodding in understanding, letting his tongue slide across his lips.

“Right. _Connections_.”

The both of us moved to take sips from our cups then, letting the conversation sink in.

“Why is she wanting to do this the hard way? Does she find it entertaining?”

I let out a hum, crossing one leg over the other.

“She does. But it’s frustrating work.”

“But she’s still pursuing it. Why?”

I blinked and placed the cup down, clasping my hands together with a shrug. 

“Because she can. Because she’s curious and wants to know more. Because she knows her connection will most likely say no. Her connection’s planning _something._ She had this look on her face that just screamed mischief the day the woman met you, and she wants to beat the connection to the punch so she can say ‘I told you so’.”

He seemed shocked at this discovery. I was too. 

I felt like it was _way_ too forward for starters. It just seemed like this was all out of a film, but I know this is reality. It had to be.

But I _know_ Angela’s brewing something behind the scenes and just won’t tell me _or_ mystery man over here. Just for once I’d like to be ahead of the curve.

“Dinner?”

I almost choked on my own spit at the question, and took in a deep breath once I cleared my throat.

“E-Excuse me?”

“Dinner?” He repeated easily. I scanned his face to see if there was any kind of a sign that he was _joking_.

“Dinner? With _me?_ ”

“Unless you’d rather go and get information from your connection.”

I mouthed all the words I couldn’t seem to find that kept dying in the back of my throat. My heart involuntarily started pounding against my ribcage loud enough to where that’s all I could hear.

_Say something! You’re starting to look like an idiot!_

“Sure.”


End file.
